


Beyond Broken

by orphan_account



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our entire world is broken my dear" "You're wrong!" "Hm?" "Our world is beyond broken."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters in this story have the personalities I have given them, so they fit in the story better. These aren't the actual personalities. If you're just here to be a criticizing pain in the butt, I suggest you go elsewhere.

"Please say this is just a dream. Please say I'm dreaming." I whispered, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. Unwilling to admit it was real. Unsure of how I had done it. 

There were shards of glass down by my feet, covered in both mine, and my family's blood. In my hand, I gripped a bloody knife, but I still couldn't believe this was my doing. The cold was finally starting to get to me. The blood on me cooling down. The window I had shattered was letting the freezing winter air into the house. I dropped the knife, and sank down to my knees. The glass cut into them, but I could barely feel it. Screams echoed in my mind, a sound I would remember the rest of my life. The sun was going down, shrouding me in darkness. Even though I couldn't see the bloody bodies in front of me, the picture was still burned into my mind. The flashing blue and red lights, followed by sirens made me aware of the cops outside. I covered my eyes, hoping it would all be over soon. There was banging on the door, before it was forced open. 

Three police officers, all carrying flashlights and guns, came into the house. When they saw me, the bloody knife, and the corpses of my family, they pointed their guns towards me. I didn't resist when they handcuffed me, dragged me out of the house, and forced me into a police car. I couldn't think straight. All I could see was the picture of the bloody corpses of my family in my mind. This was all too much. I closed my eyes, praying that sleep could help me escape, but before I could sleep, the car began moving, and I found it difficult to keep my eyes closed. Finally I gave up, staring out the window. I knew I would remember today forever.

*Four Years Later*

I slowly opened my eyes, searching the blank white room. I thought I had heard someone come in. Gently I threw the blanket off of me, and sat up. The shiny steel door was still closed. I lay back down, my thoughts keeping me company. Finally I heard a click, and a faint buzz, and the door opened. A woman wearing a beige shirt and matching pants came in, her hair tied neatly into a bun. "Hello." I mumbled. "Patient 36 you know not to speak unless you are told." The woman snapped. She set a tray of food down on the table near the door, and walked out. I despised her, but there was nothing I could do about it. There was just no making her happy. I got up, and stumbled over to where the tray of food was. It was the same every morning. I would wake up, sit there for a few minutes, the nurse would come in, snap at me, set my food down, and leave. Every day for the past three years. The first year I was here, I was locked in a high security room, with my movement restricted by a straitjacket. I picked up the tube of yogurt, and began ducking the yogurt out of it. I heard the piano downstairs being played, and I felt my body relax.

I wasn't sure who played the piano everyday, but I didn't care, the sound was always beautiful, and I always wished I could learn to play it. But I didn't get that opportunity. It occurred to me that today was Saturday. Visitation day. But nobody would come to visit me. I killed my mother, father, and older sister. My remaining family was terrified of me, and my friends didn't know I was here. Just as I was planning yet another boring day, somebody knocked on the door. "Who is it?" I asked. "Ms. Bennett." I smiled, and opened the door. Ms. Bennett, or Nurse Bennett, was the only person here I liked. She didn't snap at me, or raise her voice, or insist that I be treated like a criminal. Technically I was, but I was mentally unstable when I was younger, the time I killed my family. I caught Ms. Bennett in a hug, which didn't surprise her. "I brought you something." Ms. Bennett said, and passed me a plastic bag. "It is your birthday after all." It then hit me like a brick. I had been here since I was twelve. "I'm Sixteen?" I asked. Ms. Bennett nodded. 

A voice called for Ms. Bennett, and she rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her. I set the plastic bag on my bed, and reached inside. I pulled out what looked like a notebook, except without lined paper. A sketchbook. I also withdrew a colorful flat little thing. A pack of colored pencils. This was the best thing I had ever received while I was here. I opened the sketchbook, and ran my fingers over the smooth white paper. Maybe today wouldn't be all bad after all.


End file.
